My Hope's Origin
by Fin's Sve
Summary: This takes place right before Finland runs away with Sweden. Finland is unsure of what company to keep. Can he learn to trust someone so scary? SuFin.  Rated for violence.
1. The Delicate Flower

**Hallo, readers of the yumminess that is SuFin~**

Just wanted to start off saying that I adore this couple and this is my first fic in about two years. So I have improved alot ALOT.

**This is my very first Hetalia fic, though. I'm a little nervous about writing it. I'll try to keep everyone in character. **

_This is dedicated to m'forum wife, Ninna 3 We both love this pairing so much. I just had to write this. _

**Told in Finland's POV. **

**Enjoy~**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: the Delicate Flower<strong>

How could this happen to me? And why am I wondering that so much lately? The world is after all a harsh cruelty in itself. I know I would always be at the mercy of my captors until I'm strong enough to get enough power to withstand it. Since I was pillaged and defeated by Sweden and Denmark, my life has been controlled and limited. I'm really unsure if I'll ever get out of their grasp, not to mention my fears of the obvious dark future with them. They're all so strong and scary. If one would let me free, the other three Nordics would most likely pick me apart. I mean…I'm a part of the Kalmar Union, too, but I feel I'm the weakest and will be divided between them sooner or later. Even when I was small, I knew my life as a nation wouldn't be easy, but lately I've been more frustrated with it.

What I hate most is when Sweden and Denmark argue over who owns me. They're both really strong and frightening. But Denmark is just better at getting his wrath across. Sweden is more…complicated. I think if I had to choose who to be loyal to, I would pick Denmark. He would probably protect me better in war. Sweden, I'm not so sure. A part of me feels that I would be given up for a treaty's sake or something by Sweden; with Denmark, well, I think he's too greedy to let anything go that is his.

Everyone picks on me, too. As I pulled on my boots that momentous day, Iceland flicked paper balls at me. Well, I guess Sweden doesn't torture me like the others. I don't have any Viking blood running through my veins; there's no way I can tangle with one of them and be assertive. I'm more sensitive, always have been.

"Sve, go get some wood to put on the fire," Denmark ordered as he sat at the long table in the dining area. He had a tall mug of alcohol again; he's always so scary when he drinks. I glanced at Sweden, who was scraping a block of wood with his knife at the other side of the room. I was semi-shocked to notice him leaning on the wall nonchalantly ignoring our ruler…again. Shudders even jerked up my spine as Denmark slammed his booted feet onto the table. "Sve!" he shouted with a low pitched tone.

As his voice echoed off the stone walls, Sweden spoke in his usual drone tone, not blinking at the recent slam of soles to wood, "get it yerself."

I could feel tension rise as Norway and Iceland froze. Iceland was more prone to halt his actions to avoid confrontation, but when Norway paused as well…I began to make sure I knew the exit again.

Denmark stood abruptly. His fist bringing down his mug shattered it against the table. "Get it!" he shouted again.

Denmark was notorious for his temper, especially an intoxicated one. I never crossed him for fear of what he would do to me. I think everyone was a little weary of him, except for Sweden. Actually, to be fair to Denmark's anger, Sweden had been very rebellious for a while now. I didn't understand it completely, but Sweden would be an insurgent every chance he got. Even little things like getting wood were out of the question for him. My eyes cut in the direction of Sweden; he still didn't mind our ruler. His straight eyes focused on what they wanted to; his hard-headedness was rising again. I envied him in situations such as that. I wanted so badly to stand up for myself, but my knees always locked and sent me to the floor bowing.

"Finland!" Denmark snapped angrily.

I was caught off guard and flinched at his tone towards me. I could feel myself cower and back away at the sight of his hard eyes on me. "Wh-" I began timidly.

"Get the wood," he told me with a stern frown.

All I could notice in that moment was Sweden's eyes on me. As I turned for the door, I caught a glimpse of Sweden's expression, as if he was telling me, "Stand up to him, too." And I so severely wanted to; I was just way too scared to. I didn't know if I would have back up if I did it. Would Sweden back me up?

My thoughts left me as I hastily rushed outside to fetch the wood to give our _family_ some warmth. I didn't have time to slip on my coat, so I tried to be quick about it. I jogged to the wood pile and gathered as many pieces as I could. As soon as my arms were full, I jogged back to the door and pushed my body against it, but it didn't open. I carefully, slowly reached for the handle, but a few pieces of chopped wood tumbled out of my grasp. I sighed, leaning over to pick them up, but I hear something that took away my shallow breath.

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><p><strong>Let me just say that this is SOMEWHAT historically accurate. I do research some, but I won't break my back researching. I don't know any Nordics, so I can't ask them. Please be gentle. lol. <strong>

**Leave meh a lil review if you wish~**


	2. The Stockholm Bloodbath

**Thank you, readers. :3 So happy to see people checking this out. **

****New chapter up~

**Enjoy again.**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Two: Danish Wrath<span>**

Metal dragging across the floor? Yes, that's what I could hear inside. I was confused at first, wondering what they were doing. I held my lean towards the door completely still, pausing to pick up the wood to listen. Denmark yelled, and I heard something like a chair hit the floor. I frowned, standing straight and leaving the pieces that fell. I opened the door and crept in, wanting to go to my room where it was safe.

I planned to drop the wood by the door and sneak away, but that didn't happen. At first I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The metal of Denmark's axe scrapped against the stone floor again, and he brought it down in a flat motion so the blades were horizontal. He did this twice before I blinked. Sweden was trying to drag himself away, his face cringing at the blows to his head and back.

Norway and Iceland only stood there, trying to look away and not stare at the beating. How could they let it happen? And what could I do? I was so weak.

Denmark dropped his axe as he grabbed Sweden's shoulder and flipped him over. He then sunk to his knees to straddle the blond and began slamming his fist at his face. I never saw Denmark make an expression like he had while terrorizing his friend. He was totally engrossed in hurting Sweden; I think he was losing himself.

Every punch made me ill, but I still couldn't move nor speak. I was too shocked and scared. I had to help him, though; no one else would. Denmark then took Sweden's shoulders and began raising the Swede's upper body up and crashing it down. Sweden's crushed glasses flew off as his head banged against the floor over and over.

"Stop it!" I finally screamed sadly. I couldn't move still, but I began crying. "It's enough!" I was so upset. I guess I'm more innocent than the others, but seeing someone getting tortured like that really got to me. I couldn't help myself. Why was I crying, though?

Denmark suddenly stopped when Sweden coughed, splattering thick red from his lips. "Why don't you scream?" Denmark shouted at his victim, but Sweden only straightened his cringe to a half neutral expression again. The Danish man panted, sweat rolling down his face, but his wild, angry expression stayed. He stood quickly, grasping Sweden's hair to pull him up. Sweden gasped heavily as he forced his body to rise up so his hair wouldn't be jerked out. "You three see this?" Denmark spat out; saliva and sweat soared violently from his face.

Norway, Iceland, and I made eye contact with Denmark. My stomach was churning as I tried not to look at Sweden's bloody face. "It is enough," Norway told our leader. He didn't have a disgusted look, nor did Iceland. They both seemed neither amused nor angry about it. I guess they knew that Denmark would do as he wanted while he was in charge. But this made me wonder for a split second… Did Norway really have nothing for Sweden anymore? They had a union between them some time ago; why didn't he try to protect him? Did he agree with Denmark?

"You made me do this, Sve," Denmark muttered angrily before dropping him. His blue eyes still focused on his crime, but he didn't seem to give off any sign of satisfaction. He lost his angered stare; it morphed into a frustration, I believe. His boots tapped against the floor as he left Sweden to lie there.

I could feel my heart sink further as Denmark walked out of the room. Norway actually followed him. I couldn't believe it! Iceland, on the other hand, only picked up the wood from my clammy hands and silently took them towards the big fireplace. I didn't even realize until then that I was still holding them. How did I not drop them in that time? But I guess it wasn't that wide of a time gap from my entry and then. Maybe it felt so…maybe seeing someone being hurt so badly was the reason it felt like a small eternity.

I was left alone in the room with Sweden, just me. As I observed his torso slowly rise and fall, my heart felt as if it would drown for him. He was on his side, panting quietly. His eyes were shut tightly, no doubt his way of keeping his pain at bay. I knew it had to hurt atrociously. Why did I want to help him? I guess, he never crossed me. It sort of felt like finding an injured tiger at random. It looks scary; it could be dangerous; but it was still hurt and probably scared. I asked myself if I would approach such a frightening thing, but just because he could rip me apart, didn't mean he would….right?

My feet moved forward as I made my way to him. I noticed the tears on my face again, and I quickly brushed my sleeves against my cheeks to clean them. I let out an uncontrollable sniffle, and I slowly knelt to him, feeling sicker. I don't know why I felt so bad for him; I guess I'm just gentle like that. He's scary, but he didn't deserve this.

His face was pretty messed up. His nose might've been broken, there were shards of his glasses embedded in his cheeks, and blood was leaking from his busted lips. "Sve," I murmured as I touched his shoulder. He didn't flinch nor show fear. Actually, I just realized that he didn't show Denmark fear either, didn't even give him the pleasure of screams. I knew he was in agony, though; he was just strong enough to mask it. I envied him…

His shaky fisted hand raised; his fingers outstretched towards me slowly. He wanted my help. He didn't speak nor look at me, only let out a labored breath every few seconds. I couldn't say no, even though I was scared of bumping his wounds. Yes, I was no longer scared of him, but I was weary of hurting him further. I would have never guessed to be in this situation.

I took his hand and helped him sit up right. As he got level with me, his body wracked as he coughed into his free hand; sticky, warm liquid seeped through his fingers. I was suddenly pushed away from him after he let my hand go. He then proceeded to use his fingers to snap his nose in place and wipe his eyes. I was so shocked at his behavior. If I were beaten like that, I would be crying and whimpering on the floor until someone helped me to bed. As I watched him, I couldn't help but to notice how he looked really weak and shaky. I was afraid he would pass out, so I offered my assistance.

"Let me help you, Su-san," I murmured gently, waiting for his response. I could feel my own pulse; it thumped hard in my ears as I tried to keep cool in front of him. Yet, inside my mind I wanted to break down and cry in my room. Selfishly, I could only imagine what Denmark could do to me if he did this to Sweden.

He winced as he tried to brush out the glass shards from his cheeks with his fingers. "Got it," he whispered hoarsely.

I stood quickly and stepped behind him; my actions seemed automatic but rather awkward. "Here," I mumbled, placing my hands under his arms and lifting him gently to stand. I saw him wobble and slightly double over in pain, but he staggered forward and slowly put his hands out in front of him. The floor was soaked with his blood, and my heart couldn't take a breath. I wanted to help more.

My eyes snapped to him as I rushed in front of his path to move the heavy axe so he wouldn't trip over it. On a few occasions, I noted that he was nearly blind without glasses. He shuddered out another breath; blood trickled down his chin as he stopped when his hand bumped into me. I took his arm and gingerly pulled him towards the hallway. I was still scared of him, but he was so pitiful and hurting. "You're brave…Su-san," I whispered timidly. He didn't respond, only walked awkwardly with me; I wondered if he had even heard me.

That day on November 7th, I really truly felt bad for Sweden. I would never be as strong like Sweden was. I believed I would never have the audacity to stand up for what I wanted like that. I admired him from those days on, because he kept living, kept fighting the Danish wrath. I also despised Denmark then; who was to say that he wouldn't beat me to a pulp one day, too? But I hoped that I wouldn't be in that situation. I had accidentally become hopeful about my future. How did this happen to me?

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><p><strong>I'm not sure if I want to have Sve's POV later on or leave this a Fin POV story all the way. <strong>

**Suggestions?**


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